


Only Forever, That’s Puttin’ It Mild

by accol



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Banter, Blow Jobs, Bottom Bucky, Dating, De-Serumed Steve Rogers, Drawing, First Time, Horny Steve, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Motorcycles, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Rimming, Sex Toys, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-22 21:48:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6095107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accol/pseuds/accol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades... and with cosmic cubes.  A mission to take down Advanced Idea Mechanics gives him Bucky back, but it also gives Steve his 1942 body.  There's only one thing to do now: Go on secret dates to Coney Island.  </p>
<p>A fic about waiting a long time for what's important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nomorerippedfuel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomorerippedfuel/gifts).



> Happy birthday, nomorerippedfuel!
> 
> Title is from “Only Forever,” the 1940 hit by Bing Crosby.

He only took out _that_ sketchbook when Bucky was down at the docks, or sometimes when Bucky had a date.  Otherwise it stayed under the loose floorboard next to the kitchen wall.

Once, when they’d been horsing around, Bucky pinned him up against the icebox.  The leg of the damn thing moved enough that Steve hadn’t been able to get at his book for two days.  Even after he emptied all the food out and the bottle of milk was going sour on the counter, it was still too heavy to move.  Two days spent dragging every alley in Brooklyn for the right kind of stick or pole or board… anything to pry it off to one side.  Steve ended up borrowing Mrs. Carver’s broom and hoping beyond hope the handle wouldn’t snap.  He needed his book.  It was worth sweating through his undershirt and having to lay down on the floor after, sketchbook tucked under himself.

The book was a little flip-cover thing from the dimestore.  Had a globe stamped on the cardboard cover.  Steve kept it inside an old cigar tin Ma had used for buttons.  There still was a button in there, one from the waistband of an old pair of Bucky’s trousers that he’d outgrown.  Ma had taken in the leg seams to make them fit Steve, and he’d worn them until the fabric was too thin to patch.  He’d kept the button though.  Sometimes he rubbed his thumb in the dip of the buttonholes when he sketched.

Steve had a second sketchbook.  Drawings of birds on the windowsill, people from the neighborhood, things that were safe for Bucky to see when he leaned over Steve’s shoulder.  Nosy.

Things that weren’t safe for Buck to see were under the floorboard.  

****

It started at the library.  He found a gigantic book leaning on a stand by a mezzanine window.  A shaft of dust-specked light illuminated it like he was supposed to find it.  Pages after pages of photographs of European art drew him in.  He carefully flipped from one to the next, until he landed on The Statue.  His memory had given it an inflated status, maybe, but it was the start.  He didn't even realize what he was doing when his fingers pulled the nub of his pencil from his too-large coat.  The Statue was beautiful, and a page in Steve's notebook was filling with half-realized sketches of _him_.  The lines of his muscles.  His jaw.  His rear… The rest was up to Steve’s imagination because the angle of the picture didn’t give him the $20 view.  And, oh, did Steve have a vivid imagination.  A chair screeched on the floor behind him and he slammed his book closed.  It burned a hole in his pocket the whole way home.  

Big, small, and everything in between.  Men with shirts half buttoned, flies undone.  Studies of their muscles, hair.  Laying down, standing, running, but always obscene and Steve knew it.  His pencil only had to outrun his modesty, which didn’t run very far as it was.  

Worse than a sketchbook full of faceless, naked men was when they stopped being so faceless.  

Steve had drawn Bucky a hundred times in his other book, the safe one.  Steve practiced his lines.  Getting Buck’s nose just right, his lips.  Practicing the shading to make the drawing recognizably Bucky.  Nosy as hell, Bucky could barely sit still long enough for Steve to draw something -- _half_ a thing -- before he was leaning onto Steve's lap to peek.  

Steve had warned himself off about a thousand times, but Buck’s face still found its way into the icebox book.  On the good days, when he planned things right, gave himself enough time, Steve could get a whole sketch done before he had to stop and rub off against the bed with pictures of Bucky's half-open pants in front of him.

Eventually Steve started using his own body as a model.  Veins, the balls, the head as it emerged from the foreskin when he’d been thinking too much about the man he couldn’t have.   

He’d put a date on the page where he’d first drawn them together.  Seemed like a date that mattered.


	2. Chapter 2

The first time Bucky saw him in the war, in Kreischberg at the Fortress, there had been a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.  Steve saw it.  Logic said it was just Buck coming out of a torture stupor, looking at a confusing combination of a friend's face on a giant's body for the first time.  The other, smaller part of Steve's mind, the one with the annoyingly vivid imagination, worried it was regret he saw there when Bucky looked him over and stumbled upright.

 

****

 

The shot zipped over Steve’s shoulder and took out the control panel neatly.  

“I could have gotten that, ya punk,” Steve muttered, not that Bucky could hear him.  

It had been a year since S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, and a year since he woke up on the bank of the Potomac.  Since then, Steve had been getting cover on missions.  Despite everyone’s protests, the Winter Soldier wasn’t back to finish the job.  Bucky had known him on that helicarrier.  He’d _known_ him.

Sam swooped in and landed next to Steve.  “Flew over your boy a quarter mile back.  I like it better now that he’s not shooting at me.”

“I’ll tell him thanks,” Steve muttered.  He just didn’t know when.  Bucky never came closer.  

“You do that.  What do you say we show these A.I.M. guys what’s what?”  Sam checked the safety on his gun, then the other.  

Steve wrenched the blown door open.  Advanced Idea Mechanics had sprung from the ashes of Hydra.  And Tony’s intelligence pinpointed this as one of their labs.  Deep inside the building, Steve heard a muffled explosion.

“Sounds like Nat is beating us to the good stuff,” Sam grinned.

Steve took point, barreling through guards with his shield.  “Ping ping ping,” his mind supplied, narrating the path of its ricochets off bodies and walls.  A quick downward slice (“shoop”) and the last doorknob sheared off.  

Sam was inside, flanking him with pistol drawn, before the room’s contents made sense to Steve.  Darkness mostly, but a glow, green then red then blacked out for a moment.  He blinked.  The glow came back from the center of the room.  It finally registered: a black-cloaked figure was cupping something in its hands.  A cube.  The colors changed faster.  Nat was there, pulling her trigger.  Sam too.  Steve threw the shield just as the figure spoke a single word, “Revert.”

The cube clattered to the ground and Steve was on it like that damn grenade.  But this time it was no dud. A body-shaking pulse of noise passed through him.

A single gunshot cracked and the figure dropped to the floor beside Steve, dead.

Steve looked down beneath himself.  The cube had gone dark.  The only lights in the room were swinging laser targeting sights... and the partially blocked light from the doorway.  It was Bucky, gun in hand.  

“Steve!  It’s--”  It was Nat’s red dot that landed on Bucky’s chest first.  

“No,” Steve said.

Bucky strode into the room, pulled Steve to his feet, and patted him down.

“Is there damage?”  Bucky’s hands pushed and slid across him.  “Are you damaged?”

“Buck, no, Buck.”

One flesh and one metal thumb pushed across Steve’s cheekbones and forehead.  Bucky was breathing heavily.  Terror was easing out of his eyes, until he saw Nat and Sam coming closer.

Steve had time to yell, “Get Banner to put that thing in containment.”  And then Bucky was yanking him out of the room.

“Get on,” he said, his voice sounded unused and gravelly.  Bucky swung his leg over his motorcycle.

Steve didn’t hesitate before climbing on.  

Bucky drove like Steve did, too fast and with only passing regard for traffic laws.  It meant that Steve hugged in close to keep the balance of the bike.  Within minutes they were gone, heading out too far in the sticks for traffic cameras.

****

Bucky killed the engine in front of a cabin.  Trees gave it cover, but gaps gave strategic sightlines down the foothills to the main road.  It was lived in.  Spartan but stocked with canned food, a metal coffee pot on the wood stove, electronics, a laptop…  

“You’ve been here for how long?”

“Eleven months, four days.”  Bucky was tugging at the buckles and velcro on Steve’s suit.  “Are you damaged?”

Steve let Bucky pull open his armor, but he reached for Bucky’s too.  “Are you?” he echoed back.

“Clearly,” Bucky quipped, and for the first time Steve saw the familiar half-grin.

“You little--”

“Who you calling little?”

“Are you…”  Steve hesitated.  “Are you back?”   _Are you Bucky or are you still Zola’s?_

“Gettin’ there.  Figured there was one thing missing.”

Bucky’s hands were sliding over every inch of Steve’s torso.  They went down his bare arms, fingers slid between his and then were gone.  It made Steve ache and want to laugh in dizzying waves of emotion.  Steve’s own hands only were good for gripping onto Bucky’s half-open armor, drinking him in like it was 1942 again and he was fantasizing over his sketchbook.

“Steve,” Bucky whispered.  It was a plea, and suddenly Bucky had him beneath the thighs, tossing him on the bed with a creak of the springs.  “I want--”  Bucky stopped short and looked wide-eyed at Steve, unsure.

Steve laughed then.  “Seventy years, and now you tell me _you want_?”

“More like eighty.  And the walls were too thin back then.”  He looked comical, hair windswept at all angles, and he looked terrifying, terrifyingly vulnerable in this moment.

“Eighty?  Buck.  I’d wait a million if that’s what it took,” Steve said softly, reaching out.

Bucky was still unsure.  “I can… do this?”  His hand drew up Steve’s side.

“You can and you should.”

“Bossy,” Bucky muttered, but he let his weight slide onto Steve.

It was glorious, the feel of him.  After too long imagining Bucky’s touch, this was more than Steve could have dreamt up.  They shifted against each other.  Steve pulled open Bucky’s shirt, and the warmth could have sent him to an (another) early grave.

“I didn’t know,” Steve whispered.

“Me neither,” Bucky said against the skin of Steve’s neck.  

“Boy, are we dense.”

“You said it.”  

Bucky mouthed as his neck.  He was right, it had been eighty years of waiting for this exact moment.  Maybe longer.  Maybe it went back to the first time they met in August of ‘28.  Steve was little then, but not so much littler than Bucky when they dragged each other out of that first alley fight over stolen marbles or licorice whips… Steve couldn’t remember the details, but there had always been a desperate, fond, patient, simmering, half-drawn outline of love.

Steve grabbed Bucky’s chin and dragged him in for their first kiss.  The welling up of emotion made it all too sloppy.  Steve wanted his eyes closed because that was how it was in the pictures, but he needed them open because he’d spent too long not laying eyes on this man.  In the end his view of Bucky was blurred through wet lashes, but he could still see the smile gazing back at him.  

And then it turned sly.  “Probably should be thorough, look you over top to tail,” Bucky said.

“What do you think you’re gonna find?”

“Never know til I look, do I?”

“You’re full of good ideas.”

“Just you wait.”  Bucky opened Steve’s fly.

“I’ve _been_ waiting,” Steve quipped.  “How much longer am I gonna have to--”

And Bucky reached inside.  Steve’s gasp was lost in the press of Bucky’s mouth to his.  He swallowed every whimper as he stroked his flesh hand along Steve’s cock.  Every part of Steve was warm, burning, sweating.  He needed to be naked and pressed hard against him.  He needed to be spread eagle and deep inside him.  He needed everything at once.  

With a stuttered breath, Steve was already coming.

“That’s it,” Bucky said stroking him through it.  

There had never been anything--  No one ever--  Well, holy hot damn!  He could feel it tingling his hair, he came so hard.

Steve gave himself a ten count and then shook his head clear.  “I’ve been thinking.”

“Here and I thought you were too busy for that.”

Steve swatted at him.  “I’ve got a plan.”

“Lay it on me.”  Bucky gave him another squeeze, and Steve sucked air through his teeth.  

“I’m going to strip you down and show you the good things in life, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky pulled his hand free of Steve’s pants and rolled onto his back.  He gestured at himself with his other arm.  

“No sense waiting, old man.”

“Oh, you’re gonna get it.”  

Steve yanked Bucky’s boots off and tossed them aside.  Bucky helped by loosening his belt.  Steve handled the button.  Easing them down over Bucky’s hips took longer because Steve leaned in and pressed his lips to those muscles.  The lines stood stark when Bucky flexed impatiently. Steve nipped at them.  Bucky’s cock laid against Steve’s cheek as he kissed him.

Steve had ten lifetimes full of plans.

“I can hear your gears turning,” Bucky said gently.  

“Only good things,” Steve said and then he took Bucky onto his tongue.

Buck hissed and clawed at the sheets.  He balled them up, squeezing and pulling until Steve heard threads snap.

“Touch me.  I want you to,” Steve urged.

Hands were on the back of his neck then, on his shoulder.  It was all incongruously gentle.  The two of them had fought each other nearly to death, taken bullets, broken bones.  And here they were, at each other’s mercy in the greatest of ways.  

Steve wiggled out of his own pants, and he shoved Bucky’s off to the floor.  Finally, nothing keeping them apart.

“Stevie.”  Bucky tensed, metal and flesh fingers tugging gently at Steve’s hair, and spilled down Steve’s throat.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve woke up slowly.  It felt too good to rush it.  Laying here in Bucky’s arms was a decades old dream.  Sure, they'd both spent most of that on ice, but it still felt like a lifetime.

_ Finally _ .  Cripes.  Why had they been so damn slow on the uptake?  

Steve pressed closer, grinning like the idiot he was and enjoying the warmth of Bucky’s chest.  A pleased rumble came beneath Steve’s ear.  His embrace tightened.

“Stevie?  Steve?”  Bucky’s voice sounded urgent.  The covers were gone suddenly, and Bucky leapt out of bed.  He yanked his hair off his face and stared.   “You’re you.”

“Who else would I be?” Steve's brow furrowed as he considered whether Bucky’s memory loss might be permanent.

Bucky pressed his lips together in the universal expression for “don't be thick in the head” and pointed at him with one shiny finger.

Steve looked down at himself.  

Much, much less of himself.  

 

****

 

“Does Bruce have it contained?”

“This isn’t amateur hour, Ice Cube.  Of course it’s contained.  I have Dum-E poking at it.  There’s a blast shield.  It’s fine.”

Steve heard a clatter from the other end of the comm link.  He locked eyes with Bucky.    

Tony swore loudly.  “I’ll call you back when we figure this out.  It’s probably fine.”  Colorful cursing came across the line before Tony’s end disconnected.   

Bucky raised a brow.

“Looks like we wait it out.”  

Bucky had draped one of his extra shirts over Steve and it fit like a parachute, same as it did when Steve put on Bucky’s work shirts back in the day.  The clothes he’d come here in were a heap on the floor, twelve inches too long in the leg and weighing as much as Steve did wet, probably.  The whole room was too big.  Or maybe, after all this time, it was just right.  Steve had a brief moment of vertigo.  This was probably how Bruce felt on the regular.

“Breakfast?” Bucky offered.  He was already stoking the fireplace to get the coffee pot on.  It wasn’t all that different from Brooklyn.  A few mismatched plates, an open shelf with a mish-mash of canned food, a dish rag draped neatly over the sink edge to dry.  

Steve nodded at Bucky's offer.  

Watching Bucky tend to him made Steve suddenly crave that button in the little tin box.  He hadn’t thought of that thing in years.  It had been plain, old bakelite once Steve had rubbed it bare with his thumb, but before then it had silver designs stamped on it.  Reminded him of Bucky’s new arm.

With no button, Steve clenched his hand into a fist instead.  Just a loose one.  The strength wasn’t what it used to be.  Or, it was exactly what it used to be way back when.  

Steve frowned a little.  

The cube hadn’t just made him shorter.  Steve experimentally loosened and clenched his fist again.  And then once more.  Sensation was amplified.  The blunt of his nails bit into his palm, and the slight slick of sweat slid over his fingertips.  

“Huh,” Steve muttered.  Bucky looked over, pausing with the coffee pot under the tap while Steve rubbed his finger against his thumb.  Every fingerprint ridge vibrated past the next.  “Huh,” he said again.  

“You ok?”

Steve ran his hand through his hair.  His knees almost buckled from the shiver that burst through him like fireworks.  Every hair pulled at his scalp like it was tied straight to his groin.  

“Damn,” Steve gasped at the same time the coffee pot clanged in the sink and Bucky scooped him up saying, “Is it your asthma?”

Steve huffed out a laugh.  “It’s definitely not asthma.”  He ran his hand over Bucky’s stubble and shivers shook him again.  “Doesn’t feel like anything’s wrong.  Feel’s like I’m gonna blow my wig is what it feels like.”

Bucky was huge from this angle, and his grin took over his entire face.  “So what you’re tellin’ me is your body got small but your ring-a-ding-ding got bigger?  That is something else, Rogers.  You are something else.”

“Says you.  How ‘bout you give me a hand or two with it instead of just giving me lip?”

Bucky tossed him on the bed, and the whine of the springs was music to Steve’s ears.  Warmth still radiated from the quilt they'd slept under.  The sheet was smooth beneath his ass.  Hell, it was the best thing he'd ever felt save Bucky last night.  He rucked his shirt up to his thin chest, exposing himself to Bucky and to the cool air of the room.  Just that was enough to make Steve’s toes curl.  His cock was already hard against his belly.  

“You are somethin’ else,” Bucky said again.  

He crawled up between Steve's knees like  _ he  _ was the small one and breathed hot air on him.   _ Christ. _  It was torture -- half unbelievable, half unbearable -- and Steve told him so through gritted teeth.  Bucky just switched to a fast, cool exhale, the jerk.  Steve yelped.  Bucky hadn’t even  _ touched  _ him yet.  It was going to be desperate and inelegant and it might turn him inside out, but Steve was going to go over the edge without much more.

He needed Bucky’s weight on him.   _ Now. _  Steve grabbed Bucky’s metal wrist and yanked.  He’d never be able to budge him, not with this body, but Bucky came anyway, willingly and still grinning like a goof.  

“What do you want?” he whispered.

Steve couldn’t answer, physically couldn’t.  Bucky’s heat pressing down on him sapped him of everything but this  _ urge _ .  He was buried under the curves of muscle he’d spent hours drawing.  Smudged hints of Buck’s strength, his tenderness, playfulness, virility on those hidden pages.  And now all of that was out of Steve's sketchbook and bearing him down into the bed.  Steve humped his hips upward, only managing a half a thrust under Bucky’s mass.  Still, the friction was enough to light him up again.

Bucky shifted to the side, pulling Steve along with him.  “Here.  I've got you.”  He shoved down his pants and bent his leg, guiding Steve’s cock to the crease of his thigh to groin.  

Steve didn’t need to be asked twice.  He looped his arms around Bucky’s neck and pushed his hips forward.  Wetness had beaded at the crown of his cock, and it eased the way a little.  Barely enough.  The friction heat was enough to drive him crazy.  Forward and back, erratic, panting.  Steve realized he was grunting as he rutted.  Nothing could make him want to stop.  

Bucky, for his part, kept that ridiculous grin.  He dropped a kiss on Steve’s lips.  It was affecting him too.  Steve felt Buck’s dick shoved against him.  A flash of memory zipped through Steve.  Pencil drawings of Steve perched on top of Bucky, or under him, or even behind him.  Didn’t matter how he’d drawn them, Bucky always was fully erect in those pictures.  And Steve never finished a single one of those sketches before jerking off into a handkerchief.

“Hell yeah, Stevie.  Fuck me good.”

Steve grunted hard at that.  His heartbeat flooded his ears, and every muscle clenched down to his toes.

“Buck!”  Steve spasmed.  Every part of him rigid and electric as a lightning rod.  But Bucky was gentle with him, holding him close, stroking down his back to ease the way.

He laughed as a he came down from the euphoria.  “Didn’t even need my nebulizer.”

Bucky smiled fondly and laid his forehead against Steve’s.


	4. Chapter 4

“Take stock,” Bucky pressed.  

He’d cleaned Steve up, fed him, and now was prodding at him to consider the worst case scenario.

“I jumped on some unknown tech to save my team.  Then I bedded you -- finally, thank you -- and woke up small and horny.”

Bucky scowled.  He took a swig of coffee before responding.  “I know it’s your nature to be the world’s biggest smartass--”

Steve grinned proudly.

“But I also know what it feels like not to have control over my own body.”

Steve’s grin disappeared.  He wanted to say, “Don’t overreact,” but he didn’t.  He could bite his tongue sometimes.  

Bucky reached across the table and put his hand over Steve’s.    

“I feel fine,” Steve said.  “Tony and Bruce are working on the cube.  Nat and Sam have a team working on the A.I.M. lab.  I’m a 100 lb. kid again--”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“But I feel fine.”

“What if you stop feeling fine?  Huh?  What then?”

Steve squeezed Bucky’s fingers.  He didn’t know what he’d do then.  Truth be told, he didn’t like sitting here feeling helpless either.  It wasn’t in his constitution to sit still.  Spent his whole life fighting.  So’d Bucky, because of him mostly.  

“Let’s go home,” Steve blurted.

“Tried that.”  Bucky shook his head.  “It’s ten square blocks of condos.  Nothing’s the same.”

Steve heated all over with affection for him.  Of course Bucky went back to Brooklyn some time during the last year.  Steve’d done the same thing.

“There’s gonna be  _ something  _ the same,” Steve replied.

“It’s been 75 years.”

“James Buchanan Barnes, I’m asking you on a date.  Are you tellin’ me no?”

 

****

 

The motorcycle wasn’t the least conspicuous form of transportation, considering they’d fled on the thing yesterday.  But damn it felt good to be pressed up against Bucky’s back with the vibrations of the motor under them.  

Steve only made him pull over at one wayside rest stop.  

“Let’s hope this part never wears off,” Bucky said with a dazed grin.

 

****

 

Buck was right.  There wasn’t much the same in Brooklyn.  Steve had driven through a few times over the last few years, but without Bucky… well, it hurt a little too much to explore very far.

McLevish’s was still there.  Same long wooden bar with the mirror behind.  Midday meant it wasn’t busy, but there were enough people to make Steve pull his cap low.  Pictures of him in this body were all over the Smithsonian and probably in kids’ schoolbooks.

“Don’t hide from me,” Bucky said leaning in closer.  He flicked the bill of Steve’s hat up a smidge.

Steve remembered watching Bucky flirt with girl after girl in here.  If they were sweet, he’d brush a curl off their foreheads or lean in close to whisper things.  Steve never could muster the will to try talking to a dame like that, not when he was so damn jealous of what they were getting from Bucky.

“I barely let myself think it, but I wished every one of ‘em was you, ya’ know,” Bucky said quietly.  

“Mind reader,” Steve said, flushing a little with the rush of feelings that came with Bucky’s confession.

“Drink your beer,” Bucky said.

“You think this’ll make me easy?”

“Yup.”

Steve grinned and drank.

 

****

 

Steve still couldn’t get drunk, turns out.  But it was a real good thing McLevish’s johns are one seaters with good locks on the doors.

 

****

 

Their apartments were gone.  The one Steve and his Ma had lived in was a high rise now.  Bucky’s was condos, just like he’d said.  

Kings Theater was still on Flatbush though.  Looked almost the same on the outside.  They’d been in there enough as kids for it to be a second home.  Snuck in through the alley so they’d have enough money for concessions.  This time they went in right under the marquee, side-by-side through the front door.

Up in the very back row, Bucky swatted Steve’s hand away and took the first handful of popcorn.  Their seats were huge, not like the original ones, and the armrests between them swung up.  Steve did just that so he could press his thigh against Bucky’s.  No girls sitting between them to keep up appearances.  No acting like they were just pals anymore.  

Steve took a kernel out of Bucky’s palm and pelted it at him.  Bucky fed him one with his metal hand.

“Keep your energy up.”

Steve replied by sucking the butter right off his finger.

 

****

 

“Does this mean we’re old now?”

“Speak for yourself,” Bucky said, shoving another wad of spun sugar into his mouth.

Steve handed over his own cotton candy.  It was way too sweet.  Sweeter than it ever had been when they were kids.  Maybe the amped sensation had gotten to his taste buds too.  “Let’s hope the serum takes care of your teeth so they don’t all rot out of your head,” Steve grumbled.

Bucky bumped him affectionately and kept eating.  “This was your idea.”

It was, and Steve was going to have his Coney Island date.  “You’re taking me on the ferris wheel, and I’m gonna kiss you up there.”

“Deal, but I’m gonna taste like sugar,” Bucky grinned.

He did, but Steve kissed him anyway.  Right out in public, he kissed Bucky Barnes.  No one looked twice.  Hell, there were three other couples doing the same thing.  Nine months ago this would have been impossible.  Nine  _ hours  _ ago it would have been.  Nine hours ago, Steve was Captain America.  Now he was Steven Rogers, the kid from Brooklyn.  He started giggling.

“What?”

“We could do this all day and night,” Steve smiled.

“Pretty sure four bucks only gets us maybe ten turns around this thing.”

“No, I mean, no one around here seems to be puttin’ two and two together.  No one knows what I look like.  No one knows who you are.”

“‘Spose we better make the most of it.”  

Good thing no one knew they were America’s first Avenger and America’s most wanted fugitive, because Bucky let him have it real good.  As good as you can with your clothes on anyway.  Steve stepped off the ride spinning.

 

****

 

“Oh, yes we are.”

“You are insatiable.”

“Let’s find out,” Steve beamed.

He took Bucky’s hand and led him into a store with blacked out windows called The Red Room.  Inside the sheer number of obscene things was dizzying.  Pornographic movies and magazines.  Rubber penises.  Harnesses.  Frilly costumes.  

“Help you boys find something in particular?”  A petite, black-haired girl wearing leather lingerie and heels that made her taller than Steve seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Steve took his cap off and held it in front of himself, but she probably already had seen his reaction to this place.

“Lubricants,” Bucky prompted, barely holding in his laugh.  He wasn’t faring any better, judging from the lump pressing against Steve from the back.

“Do you need it to be toy-safe?” she asked, leading them toward a shelf that looked like a literal candy shop.  Bottles of all sizes and colors, shiny.  Mouthwatering.

“Yes,” Steve blurted out.  

She grinned and looked them over.  “Yeah, you do.”  She handed Steve a bottle.  “This one’s my favorite, and I’m gonna show you my other favorites.”  She walked over to a whole display of things that made Steve feel like he was on fire from the inside.

 

****

 

“We’re coming in,” Steve said into his phone.  

“Vision is working on the cube.  I think it’s an artifact of his programming as JARVIS, but he says he can talk to it.  We’re going to see if--” Bruce said over the line, but Steve interrupted him.

“Good, good.  We’ll just go up to my apartment and wait then.  See you later.”  Steve hung up before Bruce could respond.

“Subtle,” Bucky said.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want it.”

Bucky grinned and revved the engine.  “Hop on.”

“I intend to.”

 

****

 

“Shall I hold your calls,” FRIDAY inquired as they stumbled out of the elevator, already tangled up in half-discarded clothing.

“Yes, yes, yeah,” Steve panted.  It was in answer to both FRIDAY and Bucky.

“Certainly,” she said.  The elevator door slid shut and a metallic clank assured them the apartment had been locked down.

“Get in the bedroom, Buck.  I can hardly wait, I need you so bad.”

“Don’t need to ask me twice.  Beat you there.”

Bucky eagerly and efficiently shed his t-shirt.  God, every line, every muscle.  Steve had to brace himself against the wall just watching him.  He toed off his shoes, undid his pants and shoved them down, leaving a trail of clothes like breadcrumbs.

“You coming, Rogers?” Bucky called from the bedroom.

“Trying not to, more like it,” Steve replied.

Bucky laughed.  “Get in here and let me take care of it.”

Steve diverted to the bathroom and ripped into the Red Room bag.  He lathered up his hands and washed off the plug.

“What’s takin’ so long, slow poke?”

“‘Scuse me for wanting to do this right.”

“I’m just saying, you got a guy in here who’s hot to trot.”

Steve emerged from the bathroom, plug in one hand and lube in the other.  Bucky was sprawled on the bed, slowly stroking himself.  

“Christ almightly,” Steve breathed.

“Back at you.  Come up here.”

Steve crawled up and straddled him, leaning down to place a relatively chaste kiss on Bucky’s mouth.  

“Thanks,” he said.

Bucky didn’t ask, “For what?”  And for that, Steve was glad.  Because it would have taken a year to list all the reasons why, and he was a busy man with work to do.  Starting with pushing Bucky a bit lower on the bed and then crawling himself up a bit higher.

“Good?” Steve asked, looking down.

Bucky’s eager eyes said it clear enough.  “Get down here,” Bucky said, punctuating it with a long swipe of his tongue over Steve’s rear.

He reddened from ears to chest with it.  This was one of the things he’d never managed to draw in his book.  It seemed one step too far.  But here they were and it was  _ heaven _ .  Bucky was making satisfied noises that didn’t help Steve’s blush fade.  He was gripping Steve by the hips, holding him tight to his mouth, like he’d jump away otherwise.  Having Bucky’s tongue on him -- no, God --  _ in _ him was maddening.  

Bucky moaned against him.  Steve looked over his shoulder.  Bucky was fully hard and slowly grinding against the air.

“Yeah,” Steve breathed.  He rocked down onto Bucky’s face.  Steve cupped himself just to get a better view of it all.  But, getting a hand on himself just made it all worse.  He shuddered.  “Get in me,” he said nonsensically -- Bucky was already there -- and he started stroking himself.  

Bucky pulled him down harder.  His tongue thrust deep inside and Steve wanted all of him.  Every inch he could get.  He was wet and open and--

“Buck!”  Steve clenched down on Bucky’s tongue and,  _ pow _ , he was coming hard.  “Put it in me, please,” he whimpered as he stroked himself through it.

Bucky wiggled free as Steve collapsed on all fours.  The sound of the bottle of lubricant opening and closing was almost lost to Steve’s thundering heartbeat.  

“You are so beautiful,” Bucky whispered.  He had a hand on Steve’s lower back.  “Ready?”

“So ready.”  Steve wiggled his ass upward.

“Ебать,” Bucky cursed softly.  Steve wasn’t sure he even realized he was speaking in Russian, and it made Steve smile into the pillow to have Bucky like this, to have him at all.  

The smooth tip of the plug was pressing at his hole then.  He clenched and relaxed as Bucky pushed slowly inward.  It slid out, and then in, deeper each time.  When the widest part breached him and settled, Steve grunted.

“Stevie?”

“Yeah?”

“You good?”

Steve sat up on his haunches and squeezed the plug.  His cock gave a valiant jerk.  “ _ Very _ good.  You?”

“Very  _ impatient _ .”

“Clearly.”

“Change of plans?”  Bucky’s nerves showed in the expression on his face.

“What do you need?”

“Can you do me?  Like I just…”

Steve’s cock jerked again.  He definitely had thought of this on long, lonely nights.  He’d dreamt up a hundred ways to do things to Buck that would leave him a puddle.

“On your back.  Knees up.”  Steve smacked Bucky on the thigh to make his point.  

Bucky rolled and tucked.  Steve laid down on the bed and belly-crawled close.  He was faced with so much more than his eager mind had ever considered.  The gentle curls of hair spiraling close, Bucky’s warm scent, the flex and pucker of the muscles there.  Hell of a moment to think about sketching, but he needed to commit all of this to memory.

“Change your mind?” Bucky asked tentatively.

“No way, punk.  Strap in.”

Steve ran his tongue across Bucky’s opening.  He blew some cold air on him to make up for Bucky’s little trick last night.  

“Hey,” Bucky yelped.

“Serves you right.”

Steve went back at that pucker.  It was so responsive, Bucky was.  Every lick made him clench and release.  Steve sharpened his tongue and poked.  

Above him, Bucky groaned.

Steve tried again, encouraged.  This time, he pressed harder.  The muscles resisted him.  He flattened his tongue and slid across him.  Bucky shivered and pulled his knees higher.  Steve pointed his tongue again and pushed.  This time Bucky relaxed enough to let him in a little.  

“That’s it,” Steve said.  “Let me in.”

Bucky bore down on Steve’s tongue.  He pulled himself wide with both hands on his rear.  This time, Steve’s thrust went deeper.  His mouth watered, and he pushed his saliva inside to ease the way.  Bucky breathed quickly.  He was panting.  He tried to speak, but Steve fucked into him again with his tongue.  

Bucky growled and pushed the words out.  “How does the plug feel?  Tell me.”

Steve licked deep again before replacing his tongue with his fingertip.  He pushed in to the first knuckle and then back out.  

He pulled out and reached for the lubricant.  “It feels like… Dammit, I don’t know how to describe it.  It’s like an itch that’s only going to feel better once I get you inside me.”

Bucky moved his hand -- the metal one -- to tug at himself.  

“I want that.”  He met Steve’s eyes.  “But I want you in me too.”

Steve poured some slick onto his fingertips and grinned.  “Happy to oblige.”

He pressed his first finger inside him.  Bucky’s hand paused and restarted.  He nodded Steve on.  Steve pulled out and pushed back in, spreading the lubricant to ease the way.  

“More, I want it,” Bucky panted.

Steve leapt up and kissed him.  There was nothing else in this world like this man.  Steve could’ve sung about it, Bucky Barnes was so perfect.  

He knelt back, grinding his plug on his heel and readying his second finger.  Steve’s cock was ready too, red and beaded with moisture.  He pressed inside with his hand.  

Bucky groaned from the bottom of his gut.  “Yes, Stevie.  Come on.  Do me right.”  

He was flushed and his hair was spread on the pillow.  Strands of it had stuck in the sweat on his forehead.  He looked wild and beautiful.  Steve understood what Bucky had meant when he’d called him beautiful.  He saw it.  Steve thrust in and out.  His hole took him easily, greedily even.  

“I drew this,” Steve admitted suddenly.  “Me fucking you.”

Bucky laughed through his hard breaths.  “Figures.  I wondered what was under the fridge.”

Steve pressed his fingers upward, and Bucky yelped, squeezing his eyes hard shut.

“You nosy little punk.  You knew?”

“I shoulda taken a peek, huh?  Woulda saved us some years.  Coulda been doing this.”

“Coulda shoulda woulda.”

“Hey, you want to fuck me, or what?”

Steve almost said “or what” with reflexive sass.  “Yeah, I want to.”  Every part of him wanted that.

“What’s keepin’ you?”

Steve rolled his eyes and leaned up to kiss him again.  “I’ll go slow,” Steve whispered.

“Don’t you dare,” Bucky said back.

Steve lined up and pressed.  He wasn’t big anymore.  Just right for this.  Their first time.

“God, Stevie,” Bucky cried.  He was holding himself wide again, and Steve watched himself disappear inside him.  It was an amazing sight. 

He snapped his hips.  Flesh slapped flesh.  The plug in his ass felt like it was vibrating.  It was his heartbeat, probably, making every nerve ending spark.  He imagined it being Bucky inside him.  They’d do that.  They’d have time for that, and Steve’d take him inside like Bucky was taking him now.  Greedy and with no hesitation.  They’d have each other in every way they could dream up.

Steve took up a rhythm.  Bucky’s grunts and curses egged him on.  He tugged at his balls with one hand and jerked himself with the other.  He felt around his hole with two fingers to feel Steve driving into him, stretching him wide.  He pulled at a nipple, bit hard at his lower lip.  The way Bucky touched himself… Steve etched it all into his mind.  

The burn seemed to grab them at the same time, probably lighting them both off the same way.  Deep inside him, the fullness punched the air out of him with each thrust.  Bucky squeezed around his dick.  It was the go ahead to give him everything.  Steve pounded as hard as this body would let him.

“I can’t--”  Bucky shouted, and he was coming.  He clenched around Steve’s thrusting cock.  Come roped over his belly and chest in beautiful lines.  

Steve’s orgasm came rocketing down his spine.  He collapsed over Bucky as he spasmed inside of him.

 

****

 

Steve woke up first, feeling sticky and needing to remove the plug.  He sleepily reached behind himself and tugged it free.  He grinned with eyes shut when his body flared with pleasure again.  Nothing seemed to satisfy him when it came to Bucky.  

Bucky rolled into Steve’s space when he got up.  He threw an arm over the pillow and pulled it close.  Steve smiled softly as he padded to the bathroom to wash up.  

He dropped the plug in the sink when he saw himself.

“Buck!  Get up!”

Bucky groaned.  “Not done yet?  I’ll take ya, just give me another 10 minutes.”

“Bucky!”

“Fine,  _ fine _ , but let’s do it in the shower this time because--”

Bucky rounded the corner and saw Steve.   _ Big  _ Steve.  Captain America Steve.  Bucky’s expression was nothing but surprise.

It was what Steve had worried about all those years ago.  Steve’s face on a giant wasn’t quite right.  It wasn’t what Bucky wanted.  He’d run again.  Steve hoped he wouldn’t, but he might.  Gone into the wind like he’d been for the last year.  Maybe permanently this time because at least they’d had this day together.  One for the history books.  Got it out of his system like he couldn’t back in 1942.  Steve waited for Bucky to turn around and walk out.

Instead, his face softened.  “That didn’t take long.  I suppose this means we’ll have to postpone round -- what are we on now? -- ten?  Better get cleaned up and go up there.”

Steve gaped.  “That’s it?”

“What do you mean  _ that’s it _ ?”

Steve gestured at himself.  “This is ok?”

Bucky guffawed.  “Are you asking me if I’m repulsed by Captain America’s perfect body?”

“Well…”

Bucky closed in on him.  They were eye-to-eye again.  “I would take you any size, any shape, any flavor I can get you, Steve Rogers.  Don’t be dense.”

“I’m not--”

“And I am going to fuck you as soon as we check in.  Don’t worry about it.”

Steve smiled and backed them toward the shower.

“We probably have time for the next round right now.  I mean, I’m all ready.”  Steve guided Bucky’s fingers to where he was still stretched.  “Been waitin’ for so long.”

Bucky licked into his mouth.  “Bossy,” he smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to lsdme for beta.


End file.
